


Enough

by fluorineandsilver (myfavoritedemons)



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, M/M, One Shot, Polyamory, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfavoritedemons/pseuds/fluorineandsilver
Summary: After three years apart, Francis awaits a reunion.





	Enough

It’s not that Francis wants, particularly, to feel like an eager pup waiting for its master, but the telegram from James had only said, ‘HMS INTREPID RETURNING TO LONDON STOP HOME SOON STOP’ Without an exact date, he finds himself idling by the front door at all hours of the day, pausing while crossing from one room to another to peer out the front windows. Even situated in his study, he perpetually has an ear cocked for the sound of James’s return.

“Expecting a parcel, Francis?” Sophia teases him, as if she doesn’t know exactly what has him so distracted that he cannot concentrate on writing his memoir. Francis heaves a sigh and puts down his pen.

“He does this on purpose, I suspect,” he says. “The bastard.” Sophia laughs and leans over, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I never thought to hear you complaining that James isn’t communicative enough,” she says.

“I never thought he’d be gone for so long,” Francis replies. “Three bloody years. It’s ridiculous.” James had, by all accounts, avoided getting himself into any serious trouble, but letters have been few and far between. Francis, finding his retirement filled with an insufferable excess of leisure time, has had to constantly remind himself that war keeps men busy, even those consigned to a desk. He’s finally started work on his memoirs at his wife’s suggestion, but writing about his time in the Arctic is hardly a distraction. 

Every paragraph is filled with reminders of what it was like to have James at his side, and when he’s not overwhelmed with memories he’s struggling to deal with the question of the tuunbaq. Sophia has been helping him to try and find a way to present the events of the voyage in a way that won’t get his sanity called into question. Francis still has doubts that the bowdlerized result will be of interest or use to anyone, but working on it is still preferable to brooding. 

A week later, the sound of the front door pulls Francis’s attention from the novel he’s been attempting to read. He discards it carelessly on the window seat as he rises. From below he can hear Sophia’s voice in concert with another’s, lower and melodious and familiar, even after years apart. Francis pauses at the top of the stairs to collect himself. His hands are shaking as he pulls his hair back and straightens his waistcoat. Taking a deep breath, he descends to the foyer.

“It’s very distinguished, James” Sophia’s words are clearer from this close.

“Do you think so?” Their long awaited companion sounds weary. Francis freezes on the stair as James finally comes into view. His cane is familiar, the same one he left with, the same one Sophia gifted him for their first Christmas together. So is the way he leans on it for support. So are the wrinkles around his eyes, and the grey in his hair, though both have increased in abundance. James meets his eyes and stops short in the process of removing his coat.

“Your hair,” Francis says. “What-” James’s shining tresses, of which he’s always been so proud, are shorn. He’s been left with perhaps two inches of hair, which is closer to solid silver than the streaks of grey he’d had when he departed for Crimea. James flushes pink. He shrugs his coat off his shoulders and hangs it on a peg, while Francis crosses the room to inspect him properly.

“My hair? What about yours?” he retorts. “I’ve never seen it this long. Since when have you been ginger?” Sophia laughs. Francis touches his own head, suddenly self conscious. It’s true that he hasn’t thought to get his hair cut in some time, and it brushes his shoulders when he doesn’t bother to put it up and out of the way. Some things have fallen away, especially without Jopson’s constant attendance to keep him presentable.

“I’ve always been ginger,” Francis says. “Just because you’ve never taken the time to notice...James what happened?” He reaches up and strokes the side of James’s head.

“Nothing. It’s ridiculous, it….” James sighs. “I was up late, and I leaned over a candle without thinking, and it caught flame.” Now Francis and Sophia are both laughing. “It’s hardly amusing enough to warrant all this fuss.” Francis chuckles and leans his head against James’s chest. It’s so good to have him home.

“I’m sorry, love,” he says. “It’s very fetching on you.”

“It’s not, but it’s kind of you to say so,” James murmurs. Francis feels a hand untie the ribbon in his hair, and James runs his fingers through Francis’s unruly locks.

“This isn’t so bad, either,” James says. Sophia snorts and they both turn to look at her.

“It’s heinous,” she says. “I’m sorry, Francis, but it’s truly awful.”

“Nonsense,” James replies, holding up a strand to inspect it closer. “With a little more care, maybe a tonic...I think there’s a sweet almond oil that would suit you-”

“Enough, enough!” Francis says. “I’ll have it cut tomorrow, and we’ll never speak of it again. Let me be.” James leaves his hair alone and pulls him into an embrace. 

“Ah, Francis,” he says. “It’s good to be home.” Francis slumps against him. The weight of his worries for James’s safety have finally been assuaged and he feels drained. 

“Hello,” he mumbles against James’s collar. “You’ve been missed. We’ve missed you. I’ve missed you.” 

“Hello,” James says. “You old fool.” Francis feels Sophia come wrap her arms around them both. They stand there together in the foyer until James’s knee starts to complain. Walking to the parlor, Sophia takes James’s hand and squeezes.

“As for you, you vain man,” she says. “It’ll grow back.”

“You really think I’m vain?” James asks.

“No,” responds Sophia, at the same time that Francis says, “Yes.” The sound of three people’s laughter fills the room for the first time in three years. A fire blazes in the hearth, and Francis is content as he stares into the flames. All is well. 


End file.
